Chapter One:

"Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty."

Stephen King

There had never been a greater fuss in all the seven kingdoms, or so the youngest daughter of the Stark lines so very much liked to declare, than the day the six squirming pups were brought through the gates of Winterfell's Stronghold. Robb was all smiles, clasping a bundle to his chest, when Arya Stark had first seen him. Even Bran and Jon seemed to have their own little bundles, and instantly a spark of jealousy sparked through her. The boys always got the best things - even little Rickon seemed to have more fun than she was allowed. When Jon opened up his coat though, showing off three more little bundles, the pout on her lips spread to a grin and she inched towards her elder brother, peering down at the three Direwolves that had yet to be claimed. Two balls of Grey fur squirmed and snuffled about against the warm furs of Jon's cloaks, and the small mass of black snarled and groaned as it pushed against its siblings, trying to bully himself into the warmest spot. Arya couldn't help the childish giggle that escaped her lips, though should it come up later she would most certainly deny it having ever come out.

"Do I get one too," She had inquired, using a gentle finger to stroke the muzzle of one of the pups, barely refraining from dancing on the spot as the pup gave a small groan, of which she took to be a sign of its pleasure. At Jon's nod, the young Stark's grin merely grew. "I get to chose before Sansa though, no telling how long she'll take on choosing." She huffed at her brother, though she did not turn her eyes back to him. Instead, her grey orbs trailed over the grey forms, seeking out the weaknesses and strengths of the suckling pups. Of course, it was far too early to tell what would become of the pups and their strengths, but she still played with the idea of being able to tell what would happen in the future.

After a long moment of thought, she lifted one from her brothers arms and nodded her head twice. "This one will do nicely," she proclaimed to her other brothers who had joined them, holding the small pup before her face and nuzzling her nose against the cold black one. "What have you named yours?" Her head rose to meet the gazes of her elder, and younger in the cause of Bran, brothers. By the looks upon their faces though, Arya knew they hadn't even thought of naming their new companions. With a huff and role of her eyes, Arya stalked off with her new found friend, hell bent on naming hers first.

As it turns out, however, Sansa was the first to name her wolf - the pristine, and quite pompous, name of Lady. Arya had spit at the ground when her sister had first told them her wolf's name, and she'd do it again had it not been for the sharp cuff on the ear by her mother's steady hand. It still stung, even some odd hours later.

"Do I have to be here," Arya sneered, arms flung over her chest and eyes narrowed in the direction of the oncoming horses. Jon chuckled and draped an arm over the sour-girls shoulders, ruffling her hair fondly.

"Yes, Arya. Your mother might give you another cuff if you should disappear." Jon's eyes danced with mischief as he nudged her off towards the wood pile. "On second thought, perhaps you should disappear, I'd enjoy seeing you scolded once more." Robb's thicker arm curled around his half brother's shoulders, wrangling the slightly younger boy into a choke-hold.

"And you, Jon Snow, had best learn who you should mess with!" The eldest Stark's words were thrown out in pure jest, bright eyes dancing with glee as he and his half brother wrestled. It was only seconds later that they'd both found themselves with their arms full of Arya. The youngest girl growled and wrestled with them until their Lady Mother coughed and the King's obnoxious laughter filled their ears. They straightened themselves out and dusted one another off before joining their siblings in a straight line, chins raised high, save for Jon who kept himself smaller than his elder half-brother, but kept about him a firm stance.

As the royal party stood before them, Arya wanted nothing more than to throw a pie of mud into the pursed lipped face of the Crowned Son.

Hello everyone. So, I've loved Game of Thrones for a Long long time, but have only just recently gotten around to starting a fic for it! So, with that said, here's the first chapter! :D Now, this is actually probably going to be Arya x Jaime centric and have a fair amount of changes from both the book and show. So keep that in mind ;) Some of it will be the same (most actually), but there will be a few changes in later chapters too! So, please R&R!